London Wild

by V. E. Shearman

  In truth, though, Charles held the rank of captain in the Elite Guard. He had been carefully chosen, against his many protests, for a number of reasons. Firstly, he had always been a bit of a loner. Secondly, he was unmarried. It was thought that the Herbaht might try to make an example of any would-be heroes, and the powers that be didn’t want to cause more suffering than absolutely necessary. Thirdly, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  They awarded him a civilian medal for what he had supposedly done. They made a big show of the ceremony on the various newspaper networks. It was claimed that someone even purchased the movie rights for the story. Charles was more than a little bemused by the attention, though he knew it was all part of the big con. Then someone gave him the nickname ‘Slim.’ Not because he was any thinner than most people, or indeed because he was larger than many people, but because one of the networks felt that Slim was a name more befitting of a hero than Charles. Again, Charles had tried to protest, but before he had time to even collect his thoughts every network had started calling him ‘Slim.’

  Then Charles started to find the problem in being a hero. In order to maintain his position in the public eye, he had to be doing something constantly, even if it was only talking about the Herbaht crisis. Humans were fickle and would soon forget him if he didn’t make sure he was visible. He had written a book, or more accurately the army had written a book for him and he had had to read it to make sure he knew what it contained so he could be interviewed about it. The book had made him sound like some sort of vigilante and had made him feel that had he really been the writer then he must have one hell of an ego. He hated having to claim the book was his work. At times he felt he was living in a goldfish bowl, not that there weren’t a few compensations for the job.

  One of the compensations about being a soldier pretending to be a civilian was that you could keep civilian hours most of the time. Charles lived in a small apartment on the top floor of a four-story building in the northern part of London. The apartment was in his name, but it was actually owned by the army, who considered it a vital part of Charles’ cover and worth the expense. The place had a large bedroom and a smaller bedroom, a large living room and a small kitchen area. There was also a combined lavatory and bathroom and a small closet. And the whole ensemble was well-furnished with everything any eminent bachelor could want.

  The main feature of the larger bedroom was the king-sized double bed. The bed only ever had one occupant. The army wouldn’t allow it otherwise. But the illusion had to be maintained that maybe he would bring a friend back for the night occasionally. The head and tailboards were made of a synthetic wood, actually plastic pretending to be walnut. Beside the bed was a small table on which sat a small handheld computer, currently charging, and a control box for the newspaper. The newspaper itself sat on a little table just across the room, facing the side of the bed that Charles would usually climb out of. The bedside table also had a few things built into it: a button for the lights with three alternative brightness settings, another button for the curtains that were currently closed and a third button for the main computer interface that was attached to the wall next to the door.

  Charles was currently lying in bed, the room lit by the sun as it tried to fight its way through the curtains. Charles decided to give it a hand and used the button on the bedside cabinet to open them. This would also help to wake him a little before he faced the rest of the day.

  The next thing he did, while his hand was already on the bedside cabinet, was to grab the small control box for the newspaper. It was something he had got into the habit of doing every day: checking through the headlines of the day, looking to see if anything had happened that might require his personal attention. This was a habit born originally of wanting to see his own name in the headlines. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of an ego. It had developed into a need to know what was happening in the world and what relevance that might have to the assignments he was given. It was rare that he could predict what he might be sent to do, but he still liked to try and guess.

  He didn’t really have too long to check the headlines. Before he got too far one of his pets, Starlight, would bring him his breakfast as she did every morning.

  Charles owned three Herbaht pets. Two of them were female, the third male, and they shared the smaller bedroom between them. There was just enough room for three beds with a small gap between each without blocking the entrance to the room.

  Starlight was the oldest, and as such she considered herself in charge of the three. She was the one who delegated the tasks to the other two. She was the one who reported any problems to the Master. She was the one the other two would turn to when they needed help. Not that they had to do any work about the apartment—they were pets, not slaves, and were protected as such under the law. But they tended to help because, like most pets, they loved their master.

  Moonbeam was the male. He had often asked Charles for his own room so he could have a little privacy and wouldn’t feel so embarrassed by the females, who couldn’t help themselves but make comments when the three of them were preparing for bed. Charles couldn’t see the problem. It wasn’t that he was insensitive to it, but he had got them all night attire and they didn’t have to undress and dress in that room or do so at the same time. Charles had even made his own bedroom available for Moonbeam to change in if he wanted it. Charles had agreed to try and get a bigger apartment with another room so Moonbeam could have his own, but warned him not to hold his breath. The army was paying for his current apartment and he couldn’t afford such an apartment himself—not in London, anyway, where the prices were more than triple what they would be for the same type of property anywhere outside the city.

  The third and youngest, though only a year younger than Moonbeam, was Sunshine. She was full of energy, always wanting to accompany her master when he went to a gymnasium or some sporting event. Sometimes he’d take her along, but not often. Domesticated Herbaht in public areas had to be under constant control of their masters, and it wasn’t easy to work out whilst leashed to a pet. Even those radio-linked leashes felt a little restricting for a proper exercise regime.

  Charles was just flipping through the headlines, ignoring anything that didn’t look too interesting. Pluto explodes; well, he had read that story yesterday. Talk of alien invasion; there were always crackpots around. Then he came to the story about the crackdown on domesticated Herbaht. He moved the controller to highlight the verbatim button on the screen and watched it through. His mind worked all the time, trying to spot a loophole, but there seemed to be none. For a moment or two he was numbed with shock. Slowly he moved the cursor back over the subject with the intention of watching the whole story again. Maybe he had missed something; perhaps he could spot a loophole in the decree. He sighed. He would have to tell his pets; they deserved to know as soon as possible. His mind tried to make light of the situation, telling him that at least Moonbeam would get his own room now, but Charles knew it was far too serious for such levity.

  Starlight rapped gently on the door a minute or two after he had started to listen to it for the second time. She then waited calmly outside for him to invite her in before she would enter. She held the breakfast she had made for him on a silver plated tray that he had bought nearly two years ago in the center of the city. She liked performing small tasks like this for her master; perhaps they made her feel more like a servant and less like a pet. However, there was any number of things he might be doing for which he wouldn’t want to be disturbed, and so she waited patiently for his invite.

  ‘Come in,’ he called; he couldn’t hide the worry in his voice. The newspaper was back to the headline screen, the headline ‘Crackdown on domesticated cats’ still highlighted.

  She entered and beamed a smile at her master before placing the tray neatly on the bed beside him. ‘Breakfast, Master. I hope you enjoy it.’ She then sat on the edge of the bed, paying no attention to the newspaper. She did this so that he could talk to her if he wish
ed to, as he often did in the mornings. She knew he had a great reputation as a cat killer, but she was a pet and from her own point of view that meant she was effectively an honorary human. When it came to killing those foul, evil, depraved hunting cats, she was squarely on the humans’ side. She idolized him in the same way that many humans seemed to. The majority of women saw him as like unto a romantic figure from a novel, and many of them wanted to marry him, or at least their idealized version of him. The majority of men saw him as an action hero straight out of a holomovie, and many wanted to be like him. There were also a few of both sexes who thought he’d just had a lucky break, and that he was too full of himself because of it. Some of them even hated him for it and would proclaim to their friends and to anyone who might listen that, given the chance, they would’ve done exactly the same. And they wouldn’t have expected half the adoration he’d gotten for it either.

  Charles was well aware that Starlight was in agreement with the majority of the women. She didn’t care so much for the idealized version; the real version would do her. If he had even been slightly interested in a feline female she’d have made sure it was she.

  He didn’t turn to talk to her, and after a minute she seemed to be getting a little bit uncomfortable. She got up from where she had sat on the bed and he caught her arm to stop her from leaving. She paused and looked at him quizzically.

  ‘Fetch the others,’ he said simply. There was sadness in his voice, and his words came out as little more than a squeak. ‘I have some news.’

  She nodded quietly, her face the picture of concern. She left the bedroom and returned a few minutes later with Moonbeam and Sunshine in tow. Moonbeam had picked up Starlight’s mood, and his head was hanging as if they had done something wrong and were here to be chastised. Sunshine, on the other hand, seemed to be overjoyed at being invited into the Master’s bedroom, as if he had announced he was taking them for an outing.

  Charles looked at them as a group, on the verge of tears. ‘I’ve been reading the news. They’re gonna crack down on all Herbaht-related incidents as much as they can.’

  Starlight nodded, her expression one of confusion. Likewise, the other two remained quiet, listening carefully to their master, and Sunshine looked as if she was waiting for the punch line to a joke. It was clear that they hadn’t understood the implications of what he’d just said.

  ‘The first step is to take all the domesticated cats to the Cattery. It’s thought that there might be a number of wild cats hiding amidst the domesticated ones, and they intend to make sure that any such are caught and put down.’

  ‘We have to leave you?’ Starlight said, shocked.

  Sunshine gave out a gasp. This was the last thing she had expected, and her face suddenly drooped, losing all of its normal gaiety as the seriousness of the situation suddenly reached her.

  Moonbeam seemed to be speechless. His expression had already been one of sadness, but now he seemed to be ignoring everything, as if ignoring it would make it not true. His eyes lowered to stare at the carpet. He seemed to be refusing to even acknowledge that Charles existed anymore.

  Charles sighed and then nodded. ‘I’m sorry. They’re giving a week’s grace on this, but because of my position I really can’t wait for the last day. I wish I could, but I think I should take you in as soon as possible. At least they’ll return you once they’re sure you’re safe.’

  Moonbeam looked up from the carpet, gazing into his master’s eyes. His expression was very skeptical. ‘They won’t let us go again, will they?’ he commented.

  The two females looked at him questioningly, and then they looked at Charles as if waiting for him to deny it.

  ‘Of course they’ll let you go, once they’ve run the tests.’

  ‘Then don’t hand us in,’ Sunshine said suddenly, surprising both the other pets. ‘You’re a member of the Elite Guard yourself. Tell them that you’ll run the tests; there’s no reason for us to have to go to the Cattery.’

  ‘Whatever it is they intend to do to tell the difference, they haven’t told me,’ Charles replied, ‘and they would tell me that I’m too close to you to be objective enough. I’d be considered too biased.’

  ‘Can’t we just stay here until the deadline?’ Moonbeam asked pitifully. ‘It’s only a few days, I know, but it would be better to spend even just a few days with you.’

  Sunshine nodded her agreement.

  Before Charles could answer Moonbeam’s question, the computer terminal in the bedroom sprung into life. In a female voice specially selected by the manufacturer to sound sexy but not obviously so, it relayed, ‘Call for you, sir, shall I put it through?’

  ‘Audio only,’ Charles commented. The use of feminine voices in computer equipment and household appliances had been a common practice for many centuries now, and Charles didn’t give it a second thought.

  ‘Please confirm,’ the computer asked, a gentle inquiring lilt in its voice.

  Charles hated that, the computer always wanting things confirmed before it would do anything. He remembered he had once had to tell it five times to shut something down because the program he had been running at the time had three checks before it would quit and the computer then had its own checks. At least it was better than the computer quitting out of something Charles was still trying to use. ‘Confirmed,’ he said irritably, ‘I’m still in my bedclothes.’

  ‘Hello, Slim,’ came a new voice. It belonged to Charles’ superior, Colonel Davis. He was the man directly responsible for the setup in the shopping center that had made Charles a hero. Charles distrusted the man; whatever motives the Colonel might have had, he had proven himself untrustworthy. Charles couldn’t help the feeling that he was just a pawn in a game the Colonel was playing and that he would only be the Cat Killer for as long as it suited the Colonel’s purpose. It wouldn’t surprise him to find that Colonel Davis was directly responsible for the current action against domesticated cats. ‘Are you there? I can’t see you.’

  ‘I’m here,’ Charles replied, wishing he wasn’t. ‘You’ve come through to my bedroom terminal.’

  Starlight ushered the other two towards the bedroom door; Charles might need to be alone for this call. Sunshine obeyed willingly enough, while Moonbeam hesitated and then also obeyed. As he left his entire body seemed to be limp.

  Charles watched them leave with a sense of guilt.

  ‘Are you not up yet?’ the Colonel said, quite oblivious to what was happening on the other end of the call. As usual, his voice came across as cold and unemotional, something else Charles didn’t trust in the man.

  ‘I’m up,’ Charles replied, eyeing his three pets as they left the room, closing the door quietly behind them. ‘The newspaper is in the bedroom; I was just checking the news.’

  ‘Good, good,’ the Colonel said. His voice seemed to be little more than a monotone; Charles had known computers with more personality in their voices than the Colonel seemed to have. ‘I need you to come to my office. I have a task for you; I can’t talk about it over the link. By the way, did you read about the story of the alien invasion?’

  ‘Er, well, I saw the headline and assumed it was just some crackpot. I’ve been seeing stories about alien invasions and flying saucers since I was a kid.’

  ‘It probably is,’ the Colonel replied coldly. ‘Some farmer saw a strange-looking shuttle land in one of his fields. A figure that he described as humanoid got out and the thing lifted off again. The figure supposedly took cover in some nearby trees. The farmer says he doesn’t think the creature saw him, but seemed to be in a hurry anyway. He also seemed to think that the vehicle in question couldn’t possibly be capable of interstellar travel and that there must be a mother ship of some description.’

  Charles was a little unsure where this was going. ‘What’s the problem if it was just a shuttle, sir?’

  ‘I want you to look into it anyway. Don’t talk to the farmer; I don’t want you to risk blowing your cover. Just go to the field and check the ground
for imprints and the like, see if anything unusual might have landed there recently. I’m not willing to consider alien visitors at this point. If this is the real deal, it’s more likely to involve cats in some way. And if they have access to shuttles and are up to no good in that area, we need to know about it. Normally we would ignore something like this, but when you see where the farm is, especially when you consider which way the figure ran, you might understand why we’re taking this so seriously.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better to send a standard patrol, sir? Suppose someone sees me?’ Charles suggested. He didn’t mention that he didn’t want to be alone that close to a possible cat gathering.

  ‘We are stretched to the limit as it is with this latest government edict. Every police station has been turned into a dropoff point for cats, and they aren’t capable of holding them overnight. Every spare man we have is currently visiting these stations and taking them to the Cattery. Even our trainees are busy calling door-to-door and trying to get cat owners to surrender their pets early. You’re the only man in the outfit who isn’t already doing something.’

  ‘Sir, I have three cats I need to drop off myself. I could take them straight to the Cattery, if it’ll help,’ Charles offered.

  ‘No,’ the Colonel said calmly and reasonably, ‘just go and check the field out and then come and see me. You can drop your cats off on your way to the field. Take them to your nearest police station. If people know you have cats and you aren’t seen handing them in, tongues could wag.’

  Charles nodded his agreement, and then, realizing he couldn’t be seen, added, ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m sending you the exact coordinates of the field in question now.’